


A Memory Now

by badcyclop



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Basically just a lot of issues, Bullying, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Daddy Issues, Divorce, Family Issues, Growing Up, High School, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Smoking, Trust Issues, Underage Drinking, but that's high school, semi selfbiographical, will include warnings for chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 23:22:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21044480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badcyclop/pseuds/badcyclop
Summary: Ashton’s life changes on a Sunday// Swinging from my family treeI climb and find myself part of a brilliant legacyOf men who never forgave, men who won't forgetAnd never measure up //





	1. Before

Fifth grade was a big year for Ashton. He noticed girls who noticed him. His mom worked as a at-home childminder. She was there when Ashton got home, and she was there when he left. 

His father on the other hand, he didn’t see much. He left in his car early in the morning and returned on the afternoon for dinner. 

Ashton didn’t have many friends in fifth grade. His only friend consisted of a boy his age, who had moved here from Burma a year ago. He still didn’t speak much English, but Ashton didn’t mind. It kept the loneliness that had consumed his school life before. 

He wasn’t the most popular. And he was okay with that. As long as the other kids didn’t bully him or said mean things. They didn’t do that much anymore. 

He had only been bullied one time when he was six. A girl one year younger than him had approached him on the playground, where he sat alone on a swing, because the other kids didn’t play with him. She had squeezed his left thigh and commented on how big it was. That’s the first time Ashton became aware of his weight. A thing he hadn’t paid any attention to in his life before. His big thighs simply meant that he could climb hills faster. And maybe his thighs were a big bigger than the other children’s, and maybe he really loved to eat candy on a Friday and Saturday night, but Ashton had never thought that it made him… fat. 

But fifth grade was better. He had a friend! And sometimes the girls would look at him and giggle. And Ashton wouldn’t understand why. And he wasn’t sure if he liked it.


	2. When it happened

“Ashton, could you please come downstairs? We need to talk,” a voice called out to the 14-year-old boy, who sat hunched over his computer playing the latest update of Counterstrike. 

“In a minute,” he muttered, lips tight from concentrating. 

“Now, Ashton,” the voice repeated, now more sternly. 

Ashton sighed and paused the game, spinning his computer chair around. He was only clad in boxers and a dirty t-shirt, which was his usual Sunday attire. But something about the seriousness in his father’s voice, made him grab a pair of shorts, before he followed the now long gone figure down the stairs. 

When he entered the living room, he sat down on the part of the couch that was closest to the window. Next to him sat his mother, and on the other side of her were his brother and sister. He didn’t pay much attention to this arrangement in the moment, unaware that this scene would play over on his retinal for years to come. 

Across from the couch his father had placed himself in one of the two leather chairs that usually faced the TV. On this Sunday the chair that his father inhabited faced the little family on the couch. 

His father was a serious but nice man. He never yelled, perhaps because he was a man of few words. But what he lacked in words he didn’t show in emotions either. His forehead was large, and if you were to make a caricature you might exaggerate these features and make him look like Megamind. He used to wear thickly black framed glasses, but after a laser eye surgery he didn’t use them anymore. 

One of Ashton’s most vivid moments from his father’s way of upbringing was a Friday his mother hadn’t been home, and their father had been in charge of dinner. None of the kids liked vegetables and they could only stomach a carrot or three, so that’s what their parents usually served along with the dinner. 

But on this particular night their father had decided to introduce them to brussels sprouts. Neither Ashton or his siblings had been pleased, and as a result neither had their father. They weren’t allowed any candy for the entire night, which had seemed like the worst punishment for three kinds under the age of 10. To this day he still despised brussels sprouts as a result. Children are weird like that, he supposed. 

He also clearly remembered more usual Friday nights spent in front of the TV, watching various singing competitions and talent shows. On these nights Ashton would lay on the couch between his mother’s legs, with his head rested on her stomach, as he drifted off to sleep at 8 in the evening. When the show ended, him and his siblings would put their duvets on the ground and lay down on top of them. Their father would then grab two corners and drag them to their rooms whilst they giggled. From there they would climb to bed, but sometimes he would lift them, if they were lucky. 

But none of these things mattered to Ashton as the man across from him opened his mouth to speak. And even though Ashton didn’t know what was to come, it was like his body suspected it and did its best to protect him from the words, he was about to hear. 

“What?” he asked, when his father’s mouth stopped moving. He hadn’t heard a word due to his brain going crazy, almost deafening him. 

“I’ve decided to leave your mother. I’ve found another woman, who I’ve been seeing for two months,” he repeated.


	3. First year after

The classroom was empty as Ashton entered it with a teacher hot on his heel.

Every Tuesday he had to have these stupid conversations with a teacher who apparently also specialized in counselling. Ashton didn’t see the point in their talks, but he did find her nice.

One of her pupils were constantly dilated and sometimes he found it hard not to stare, even though he knew it was rude. She had told the entire class the story one time in home economics. The story involved a pencil and a sister with a bad temper and an equally bad aim (or perhaps her aim had been perfectly fine, Ashton had mused).

“How are you doing?” she asked, once they had taken a seat in front of each other.

“Fine,” Ashton shrugged. And it was the truth. He was feeling fine. Sure, some things had happened, and it would be understandable if he wasn’t. But he was simply fine. What else should they discus? Could he go now?

She accepted the answer and they continued the awkward small talk for a couple of minutes, before she finally gave in. Their conversations quickly grew fewer and fewer until they stopped, due to Ashton’s unwillingness to talk. Or in retrospect his unwillingness to deal with his feelings at hand.

The year after his parents’ divorce was also the year he went to London with his mom. It had been a present from both his parents, but only his mother had accompanied him. Perhaps for the better, seeing as their only communication took place between their lawyers these days.

It was also the year his aunt, his mother’s sister, died. And the year she lost her job. It was the same year they lost their house, due to the economic status. And their car.

Perhaps these are the things the nice teacher had meant, when she asked Ashton, if he was fine. But he had been so busy living these moments that he couldn’t bear to reflect on them as well. Perhaps the numbness of it all made it easier to cope.

His English teacher had confronted him about his aunt’s passing a few days after it had happened. He had simply shrugged it off, but his pals had been shocked when hearing the news.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” one of them had asked.

Another question Ashton couldn’t answer properly at the time. An answer he still couldn’t voice out loud.

_Because it didn’t affect me as much as it should have._

_But if it had affected me as much as it should have, I might have died._


End file.
